And if I stay lucky

Then my tongue’ll stay tied,

And I won’t betray the things that I hide

There’s not enough years underneath this belt

For me to admit the way that I felt.

-Seven Mary Three, “Lucky”

            I smiled at the girl in front of me. She was probably only two or three years younger than me, and was wearing a jersey with my name and number--something that still made me bashful, even after seeing it more times than I could count. Her eyes were wide, her smile bright, and I could see her hands shaking ever so slightly. I took the marker from her hands, then scribbled my autograph on the commemorative Sports Illustrated that she held out for me.

            "Thank you so much, Mr. Fischer," she said quietly.

            I grinned, "Please, all of the guys call me Fishy. Or Jiri," I corrected gently, then spontaneously reached down and gave the girl a hug. "Thank you for supporting the team."

            A tiny giggle-slash-squeak escaped her mouth, and she turned away, thanking me once more.

            "Somebody had a fan with that one," Chelly teased, elbowing me in the side. "She was cute, too. You should have gotten her number."

            I shrugged, then started walking towards my car; truth be told--I had not noticed whether or not she was pretty. "She was just a nice girl, Chelly. She is apparently a big fan, and she seemed to be nervous about meeting me. I wanted to help her relax."

            "And cop a free feel," he said with a laugh.

            I rolled my eyes, unable to think of a reply. I hadn't had a girlfriend in over two years--and I didn't even care. I was beginning to think that there was something seriously wrong with me.

            "Lay off, Chelly," Steve said as he walked towards us. "Not all of us are hormonally driven nymphomaniacs," he paused, watching Chris get into his car. Then he turned to me. "Could I possibly hitch a ride home? Shanny's wife has been calling him nonstop, and he left already."

            "Of course," I answered, unlocking the doors. He got into the seat next to me, then buckled his seatbelt. "So Catherine is being moody?"

            "Speaking from experience, having a wife who is eight month pregnant is not always the most enjoyable thing in the world. Shanny's not used to making trips for ice cream and potato chips at three in the morning yet. But nothing in the world compares to way you feel when you first hold your own child in your arms..." he trailed off, a wistful tone in his voice, his eyes glassy and staring at something very far away.

"Breathtaking," I commented softly, then cursed myself silently, wishing I could keep my mouth shut. I definitely needed a girlfriend. I was beginning to think Stevie was beautiful.

He hadn't caught the real meaning behind my outburst, "Breathtaking can't even explain it, Fishy. It’s just...surreal. There's this tiny person, who you helped to create. And she's just looking up at you, completely trusting, unconditionally in love with you before she can even say your name."

I coughed to avoid the choke of tears in my throat that was threatening to make me look like a blubbering idiot in front of my captain. "So, ah..." I interrupted, hoping to change the subject, "how is your knee?"

He groaned, "I knew that was coming. It okay, I guess. Healing," I glanced at him as I started to back out of my parking space. He smiled sarcastically, "Actually, Fish, it hurts like hell. I'm fighting just to keep from limping, and I'm spending most of my days praying to God that it'll heal so that I can play again. You have no idea how badly I miss you guys."

"But you're at every practice."

"Not the same," he replied, staring out the window. "There is something about being on the ice with your teammates. We yell back and forth to each other, but there is something else there. The communication between us goes so far beyond verbal. I miss that. I miss knowing what you guys are thinking without even needing to look at you. I just miss being a part of the team."

"You will be out there with us soon, though," I reassured him, believing completely that the words were true. He was super-captain; he would always be there for us. He had to be.

“I hope you’re right, Fish, because I’m getting scared. I had the surgery at the end of June. It’s September 15th. It shouldn’t still hurt as much as it does. Just to stretch when I wake up in the morning, I have to force myself not to cry. Something isn’t right, I can tell,” he explained, with a shadow of fear in his eyes.

Do not say that, I told him silently. You are scaring me now. You will come back. I know it. I reached over, and placed my hand on his forearm, hoping that it would show my faith in him, because I could not think of the words to express that to him.

            The rest of the drive to his house was quiet, both of us lost in thought. I parked in his driveway, as close to his front door as possible, so that he didn’t have to walk as far.

            “Why don’t you come in for a while?” he offered.

            I nodded and turned off my car, then followed him into his house. He put on the radio, just soft background music. “Want something to drink?” he asked from the kitchen, “I’ve got beer and pop.”

            “Uh, beer I guess,” I replied, looking at the line of photos on the shelf above his fireplace. He really had a very friendly smile. It was very inviting. His eyes were nice too. They were a shade of deep brown, but the color wasn’t the best part. They were shaped really perfectly; they looked gentle. I shook my head, trying to clear it. His wife is good looking too, why aren’t you noticing her?

            “Here, Fish,” Steve said, tossing me a can of beer as he entered the room. “I keep telling Lisa that I hate having pictures up there. Its like I’m always being stared at by myself. It’s way too creepy.”

            I laughed, thinking about how lucky the pictures were for a moment, before scolding myself silently. “They look nice up there, though. Memories are fun to look at, you know?”

            He smiled, “Yeah, I know. So many of them are with my daughters, too. So that makes them special enough that I allow them the coveted mantle space,” he explained, picking up the frame on the end. The love he had for his family was etched into his face, it was inspiring to see.

            “Uncle Fishy!” Isabelle screamed as she came through the front door, running towards me.

            I lifted her into my arms and hugged her tightly, “Hey little one! How is my girl?”

            “I’m great! I had the highest grade on the math test at school today,” she exclaimed, “and we have a new classmate. His name is Mark,” she leaned closer to me, whispering in my ear, “and he’s really cute.”

            I stared into her eyes, so much like her father’s, and smiled, “Well, I hope that he is smart enough to realize how cute you are, little one,” I hugged her again, then set her down. “Hi, Lisa, how are you?”

            “I’m doing fine, Jiri. It’s nice to see you. How’s training camp going?”

            Steve chimed in, “They all look great out there. Avery’s looking like he’ll spend all season up here, and CuJo’s fitting in really well.”

            Lisa laughed, “I was asking Jiri, but thank you for the rundown, sweetie.”

            One of Steve’s lips curled into a half smile, and he turned his attention to his daughter, looking at some of her schoolwork.

            Lisa caught my eye, “He really misses being out there,” she said softly, “He’s just going insane sitting around while you guys get to play. It’s a good thing I’m here to talk some sense into him, or he would have tried to skip out of therapy to join the team by now.”

            “Its really bad, huh?” I asked her.

            She glanced back at him to make sure he was distracted, “Its worse than he wants to believe it is. He doesn’t realize it, but he wakes me up at night, groaning in pain. I’ve gotten to the point where I can barely sleep, knowing what he’s going through.”

            “But it will get better, right?”

            She smiled sympathetically. “He’ll fight until he physically can’t fight anymore. And even then, he’ll still try. He loves what he does, and he’s not going to give it up lying down. I’d love to be with him all of the time, but I can’t, so all I ask is that you’ll be there when he needs it. Eventually, he’s going to crack, and he’ll need someone to be strong for him.  Just be there for him, Jiri.”